


The Dandelion

by EmrysBeard, somanydestiel (orphan_account)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Child Abuse, Homophobia, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pastel!Phil, Sexual Abuse, pastel!au, pastel!dan, pullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 19:31:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrysBeard/pseuds/EmrysBeard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/somanydestiel
Summary: Dan's new neighbor is a bit odd





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> we've been working on this since april jfc

As soon as he sets down the last box, Dan takes a long look around his new room. The ceiling is high, one wall is all fancy glass doors to a small balcony where Dan can start growing flowers, and it features a walk in closet and en suite bathroom. It’s a nice room, admittedly, in a nice house, but he misses his old home. His room was small, but painted a pretty light green, plastered with posters, and the windowsill had all manner of small plants he would raise. Outside the glass was his little flowerbed, where he liked to raise roses most of all.

This new room feels impersonal, too large, and not like a home.

But Dan just shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts pushing all his things into the closet so that he can set to painting before setting up the furniture and unboxing his stuff. His overalls are already messy from the work he’s been doing all morning, so Dan happily gets the first pale yellow paint can, pours it into a tray, picks up a sponge roller and starts working. Before nightfall, it’ll be dry enough for him to drag in a mattress to sleep on. After he unpacks over the next week, Dan has plans to further decorate his room to make it his own. He wants to paint with his acrylics on the wall, make a mural. His dad’s friend gave him a ceiling spread that he can put up which will make it look like he’s staring at the stars as he falls asleep. All of Dan’s knick knacks will be arranged on white shelves that match his bedframe and dresser. The soft white carpet will be adorned with bright colors.

It’ll be a beautiful room, but it won’t take his mind of why he lives in it now. Downstairs his parents are setting up the lounge and kitchen, their own bedroom needing little work since they like to keep it simple in there. To keep his mind on more positive things, Dan sets to work, and he’s done by the time his mother calls him downstairs for lemonade and sandwiches for lunch.

“Guess what, sweetheart,” Dan’s mother smiles when Dan walks into the room, an over enthusiastic smile stretching across her glossed pink lips. She had informed Dan on their way to their new home that she planned to make a good impression and make friends in this new neighborhood, and it seems by the stranger sitting across the table that she was on her way to doing just that. “This is Ms. Lester. She has a son almost exactly your age, and they live right next door. Isn’t that right, Cathrine?”

“Yes,” the other woman smiles, however Dan notices that her smile is a bit more strained, her clothes a bit older, and yet her face is kind with soft eyes and wrinkles from a time when she might have smiled a bit more often. “Phil is in the greenhouse at the moment, cleaning up from his gardening club meeting. He’s a bit… Shy, but I’m sure a guest is welcome now and again.”

“Why don’t you head on over and say hello?” Dan’s mother suggests enthusiastically, her tone offering no second alternative. 

Dan shoots his mother a look of distaste, looking like an annoyed teenager rather than show the fear running through his veins, telling him that  _ talking to boys is a bad idea a bad idea not good that’s what got you here in the first place bad idea bad idea _ . Irregardless, he offers Ms. Lester a strained smile and takes a sip of lemonade. “I’m afraid I don’t know where the greenhouse is, would you mind showing me?” Over time, Dan has learned that staying with matronly women like Ms. Lester is a good way to stay safe.

“Of course!” Ms. Lester nearly shoots from her chair, a more genuine, and perhaps even relieved smile, adorning her face. Almost as an afterthought she thanks Dan’s mother for her hospitality, before bustling out of the kitchen and leading Dan towards a wooden gate in the fence of the house next door. As she leaves Dan’s house, her pace seems to slow, becoming more natural and leisurely, and as she undoes the gate, Ms. Lester turns to give Dan a kind smile. “Your mother said you came to the neighborhood to make a new life for yourselves? I hope you’re able to here. This is a small town, however there are plenty of ways to get involved. Do you have an interest in flowers, Dan?”

_ Make a new life _ . The words echo in Dan’s head for a moment before he can respond.

“Actually, yes. I have a bit of a green thumb, and I’m starting a garden on my balcony.” He looks down, playing with his sweater’s white sleeves. Typically people laugh and call him a fairie when he mentions his interest, but he gets the feeling Ms. Lester is nice and won’t make such a comment.

“Oh good,” Ms Lester smiles, and Dan isn’t quite sure, but he believes that a small sigh of relief falls from her mouth, rustling the soft strings of her shall. “Then I’m sure you and Phil will get along alright. Here’s the greenhouse.”

Once inside the Lester’s backyard, all Dan can really notice is the greenhouse, as besides a small patch of flowers and two ragged lawn chairs, the greenhouse takes up the whole of the yard. Its dirty glass windows stretch up into the sky, peeling green paint lighting up the metal frame which holds the hold thing together, flowers twisting about the windows and accumulating on a green spire at the top, nestled in place honeysuckle. Dan can hardly see through the aging windows, however it is quite apparent that the greenhouse is filled with all sorts of plants, scattered all about and further obscuring the view. Ms. Lester leads Dan over to a dirty glass pair of double doors, and the one she opens creaks softly, a sound of invitation. 

“Phil,” Ms. Lester calls. A soft hum from the other side of a mountain of ferns is barely audible, however the older woman smiles at hearing it. “You have a guest, a boy has moved in next door.” Silence is the only reply, however Ms Lester smiles anyway and motions for Dan to enter.

Cautiously, Dan steps inside, immediately staring over the spirals of plants, all sorts of kinds- there are a few small trees, ivy, bushes, and above all else, an incredible abundance of flowers in every shape color, and size. A boy probably Dan’s age with black fringe, blue eyes, and mouth set in a firm line pops out of nowhere, watching Dan with a strange expression. Without thinking about it, Dan trails his eyes over the pale blue muscle tank the boy wears that compliment his eyes well, down the black skinny jeans that seem to compliment him, and back up to his face and the white flower crown half obscured by his messy hair. After all of that, Dan also realizes that the boy has crossed his arms over his chest, eyes hard with guarded insecurity.

Dan clears his throat and holds out a hand. “I’m Dan Howell, I just moved into town. I, uh, really like your plants.”  _ What a great way to meet someone; stare at them like a creep then make a lame comment on their garden _ . The boy just stares at him, head tilted to the side, not taking Dan’s hand or introducing himself in return.

And then abruptly, for no apparent reason, Phil turns, busying himself with a pot of pink tulips, ignoring Dan completely. His face is full of concentration, his expression unreadable, however after a moment he abruptly speaks, his voice a soft, deep rumble. “In Holland, tulips used to be more valuable than gold. People would pay fortunes for them. I would rather have my flowers than a fortune. Flowers and plants are much nicer, don’t you think?” Whatever Dan seems to think, however, doesn’t appear to truly concern Phil, for he continues to fuss with the flowers, his eyes placed firmly on them and not Dan.

“I suppose so,” Dan replies slowly, turning to look for help from Mrs. Lester, but it appears she’s already left. “Are tulips your favorite kind, then?”

“Perhaps, however Angelica flowers are also quite nice. They were used to cure many things back before people knew how else to fix their problems. That’s why I make my flower crowns out of them,” Phil hums, moving along to the next potted flower, his blue eyes flying over the plant as if looking for something, his nimble fingers running along the leaves, and then a frown appears on his lips. “My Moon flower isn’t feeling well, perhaps more water will help. It shouldn’t be open at all right now, but here some is peeking out. Moon flowers only bloom at night. I have a special place for them in my heart.”

“Moon flowers are one of my favorites. I wouldn’t add more water, maybe try and use less fertilizer?” Dan says without thinking, and immediately chastises himself.  _ Don’t be assertive, do you want him to hate you? _

Before Phil can reply, Dan rolls up his sleeves and lifts his fingers to the soft petals, observing the thin veins running through. Moon flowers really are gorgeous, and he decides he wants to grow some on his terrace. He drops the bud and stuffs his hands back in his pockets, reprimanding himself again for being so forward and touchy. This greenhouse is clearly something that Phil takes a lot of pride in.

There’s a pause, and then quite suddenly Phil’s blue eyes are lifted to gaze at Dan, their color are pure and endless as the sky on a cloudless day, and yet they contain flecks of colors like the ocean on a day when the waves are stirred wild by the wind. Soundlessly, Phil observes Dan, eyes flicking this way and that, and then as suddenly as it started, the observation ended, and Phil’s eyes are back on his flower. “Yes, I believe you’re right. You like plants, then? Do they comfort you, too? Plants don’t change. They silently sit, hoping for someone to nurture them. People say that there are innocent little animals, and yet even they can harm one another. Plants, though, are truly docile, except those select few who feed on bugs and things. I suppose there are even monsters amoung the flowers, but they need to be cared for too. They’re predictable. Predictability is nice. You seem nice as well. What’s your name again?” Phil turns his gaze back to Dan, his blue eyes focusing on Dan’s brown ones.

A hesitant smile stretches across Dan’s face. “Dan. Yeah, I really like plants, and I’m planning on making a mini garden on my terris after the house is all settled. Did you maybe want to help? You clearly know what you’re doing.” He gestures at their surroundings, then pushes his hands into the pockets of his messy overalls.

“A mini garden? All gardens are important, no matter how small. You should include roses and blue cohosh; they suit you,” for the first time, a small smile flits onto Phil’s face, before suddenly it drops away, and before Dan knows what’s happening, Phil has turned, marching over to another row of plants. “But sorry, I can’t help. I… I don’t leave here much. My plants need me. Sorry.”

“Oh. I understand.”

Dan tries and fails to keep the disappointment out of his voice, then turns back to the door. He calls that he’s going home, and Phil doesn’t reply, so Dan walks back home and then upstairs, where his father has taken the liberty of taking the tarps off the floor and is assembling Dan’s bed frame for him.

“Your mother says that if you and I can get your room mostly put together tonight, we can go to the stores tomorrow and start picking up supplies for your garden. Why don’t you start a list of what you need?”

“Sure, thanks Dad.”

He runs downstairs to grab a notepad and a pen from the desk already set up in the office, then goes back to his room so he can stand on the terrace and get a feel for what he’ll be doing. The first things he jots down are roses and blue cohosh. For a moment, he stares at the words, unsure why he’s taking Phil’s suggestion to heart, then shrugs, beginning to jot down the type of pots he wants.

By dinnertime, Dan has a substantial list, and when Dan’s mother asks about the boy next door, Dan simply supplies that Phil enjoys flowers and gardening. The rest of his night is spent pondering over the strange boy, and by morning, Dan finds himself with various questions about Phil that he doubts will be answered anytime soon. Yawning, Dan wanders downstairs, only to hear his mother going on about something to Dan’s father in the kitchen.

“Yes, I went out to get your paper and I nearly tripped over them. Who are we from? What are we meant to do with them?” Dan’s mother complained, two pots sitting on the drainboard, one filled with blue cohosh, the other hosting three yellow roses.

“Oh, I think those are Phil’s,” Dan says tiredly and picks up the roses. “Dad, grab that? I should get these upstairs.”

Somewhere deep in his chest is a warm feeling that despite how aloof and strange Phil seemed yesterday, he still thought to send the flowers over. Smiling softly, Dan carries the put up and sets it where it will bloom in the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of the day finds Dan grabbing a few essentials at the local gardening store, and then sitting outside on his terrace, arranging pots and tools into a way that he likes. Its nearing dark, and he’s about to go inside, when he sees a figure standing at the edge of his yard, on the patch of grass that connects his house to the Lesters’. On closer inspection, he realizes that it’s Phil, the other boy’s black hair pushed back, and an almost smile is on his lips. When Phil notices Dan looking, however, he startles like a frightened rabbit. Retreating, he goes to stand a bit closer to his own house, his eyes suddenly meeting Dan’s. A soft smile finally appears on Phil’s lips, and then he offers a slight wave. When Dan returns it, Phil’s confidence seems to grow, and then he hesitantly motions for Dan to come down, the dark haired boy chewing his lip as he waited for Dan’s response. 

Unable to help the smile on his face, Dan nods and thinks about how annoying it would be to run all the way across the top floor to get to the stairs, then back across to the back door, while avoiding his parents so he simply climbs up on his terrace’s wall, swings over to the side so he can grab a windowsill, and then slips to the ground gracefully. Dan straightens his shirt, fixes his hair, and goes over to the fence separating his and Phil’s backyards.

“Are you alright?” Phil’s words slip quickly more his mouth, a look of almost alarm on his face, and for the first time his full concentration is on Dan. When Dan nods, Phil appears to calm down, however his gaze holds onto Dan’s face without breaking away. “That was quite a jump, I was worried for a moment. I do have an aloe plant, but I don’t really know first aid. You seem small, I’m glad you weren’t hurt.” Phil blushed suddenly, gaze dropping to his shoes. “Um, did you get the plants? I gave you yellow roses. Yellow means friendship.” Phil suddenly gazed hopefully at Dan, a strange licking of nerves and perhaps pain from some previous denial licking at the edges of his blue eyes. 

“I got them,” Dan says quickly, trying to reassure him. “You sent the other ones too, right? They’re the first in my garden.”

Dan looks down at the grass to hide the inexplicable blush on his cheeks, but can’t keep his attention there for long because Phil is beckoning him toward the house, walking backwards.

“I made hibiscus tea,” Phil speaks, his eyes suddenly bright and playful. “If you don’t like it, I have other teas too. I like tea, but usually I don’t have anyone to drink it with but my flowers. They’re nice company, but not much for conversation.” Phil says the statement in such a way that its hard to tell if he’s joking, however the light in his eyes is playful and young, almost a leftover from childhood that Phil hasn’t quite let go of. “I have some flowers inside, too, they’re the only flowers mum lets me keep in the house. She lets me keep them inside because they’re important to me. What’s important to you, Dan? Why do you like flowers? What else do you like?” 

“I’d love some tea,” Dan says softly, following Phil in through the back door. “Sounds cool. I really like painting and Muse, which is a band.” He notes the way Phil tilts his head to the side like a confused puppy at the band name. “I guess I like flowers because they’re really pretty, and delicate, but also tough, in their own way. Dandelions especially, because they’re technically weeds, but symbolize hope and are annoyingly persistent.”

“I like how persistent you are, you’re not a weed,” Phil says offhandedly as he seats Dan at a small wooden table and pours him a glass of tea. “You do seem rather like a dandelion, though, in looks. Dandelions are pretty, but have an unusual look, a bit different than other flowers,” Phil blushes as he says it, the implications of the statement going unsaid, namely that Phil might have just called Dan pretty. Busying himself with his own tea for a moment, Phil averts his eyes again, before saying, “I like Muse too. I think I connect with their music. When I feel lost, their songs help guide me back. Their songs, and flowers. What really brought you here, Dan? Why are you lost? My mum told me one thing, but I can tell differently. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset… I knew it was something bad.” Phil’s face fell.

“You ask a lot of questions,” Dan says slowly. “I’m not upset, Phil, it’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil murmurs softly. “I suppose I do ask a lot of questions, but it’s alright. I’m used to them going unanswered. I don’t mind it, really. I’ve always been told that I was too curious for my own good… It’s nice that you got to leave whatever hurt you. I’ve been lost for years, but I’ve never left this same place. Maybe leaving would help me find what I’m looking for. I dunno… I hope it helped you.” Phil gazes over at Dan, his statement seeming a question in and of itself, his eyes gentle and warm, trustworthy. 

“It did.” 

Dan reaches out to place his hand on top of Phil’s comfortingly, but Phil jerks away from the touch, leaving Dan with a slightly hurt expression on his face. He mumbles something about needing to get some sleep because it’s late, and runs out of the room with a blush. 

_ You made him leave. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid _ .

That word circling in his head, Dan runs outside and climbs back up to his terrace and throws himself inside, already stripping out of his clothes. After tossing them in the hamper, Dan grabs a towel and turns on his shower, hot enough that steam floods the mirror almost immediately. Quickly, Dan gets in and starts washing his hair, half curly from the exertion of the day. He also scrubs the dirt he picked up working on his garden, replacing it with the scent of his strawberry body wash. Deformed bubbles swirl down the drain at his feet, chased by the warm water. 

Once out, a soft thump from outside his window catches his attention, and he heads out to his balcony to find a rock with a note tied around it. Uncrumpling the note reveals a lovely drawing of a forget-me-not and a short message which read, “ _ I'm sorry for running off, I'd like to see you again. Meet you tomorrow at the greenhouse? My gate will be unlocked.” _

Smiling, Dan picks up the rock and the note, brings the note inside, and sets it on his dresser next to a snow globe with the London Eye in it. He scribbles a sketch of a thumbs up on a post-it, attaches it to the rock, and tosses it back. Satisfied that he didn’t ruin things, Dan pulls out his sketchpad and draws, soon realizing that he’s drawing Phil’s face, a crooked hint of a smile on his lips and his fringe messy on his head. With a sigh, Dan tears out the page, crumples it, and tosses it in his trash bin.  _ Boys are the reason you’re here in the first place _ . Hurriedly, Dan pushes his sketchbook under his bed to be added to when he isn’t thinking about those pretty blue eyes.

In his own house, Phil curls up around his pillow, the note in his hands, and he smiles at it, tracing one of the thumbs up. He gazes at it happily, before he looks down at his hand, tracing over it with the fingers of his other hand. His smile grows wider for a moment, before suddenly his bottom lip trembles, and then quite suddenly, tears pour over his cheeks, clinging to his lashes, however he was completely silent, the tears drying to his cheeks as he fell asleep.

**************************************

The next day, Phil’s smiling at his moon flower which is now appearing to be healthy, when he hears Dan’s voice float through his greenhouse, and a smile comes over his face. Moving along to his strawberry plant, Phil waters it and arranges the leaves, before picking a strawberry and offering it to Dan as a silent greeting.

“Thanks,” Dan says cheerily, popping it into his mouth. “Anything I can do around here to help?”

Today’s outfit is different than yesterday’s; instead of wearing a white sweater and overalls, Dan has on denim shorts and a pastel pink shirt that’s barely long enough to cover his belly button. He watches as Phil grabs something off of one of the few benches in the greenhouse- a crown made out of small white flowers, fragrant and feather light when it’s placed on his curls.

“For you,” Phil states matter-of-factly, appearing proud of this offering. “To make you feel better about leaving your home to live here. I hope it helps you heal.” With that, Phil turns back to his plants. “You’re here. That’s helpful, Dan.” The name rolls off of Phil’s tongue like a warm chocolatey blanket which wraps Dan with a feeling of warmth..

For some reason, Dan can’t help but smile. When Dan wasn’t around, Phil thought to make something he might wear, and now says Dan’s helping just by being around.  _ He’s probably lying no one ever wants you around especially boys especially cute boys _ -

“Thanks. But c’mon, there has to be  _ something _ I can do?”

Phil hesitates, fussing with another plant, before abruptly reaching into a drawer and producing a small watering can with a sunflower painted on it. “You can fill this up and water the plants as I check them over… Do you really like plants? You aren’t just… You’re being very nice. You’re like one of my flowers.” Phil didn’t look at Dan as he said this, however his cheeks were pink.

“Sounds like a plan. Yeah, I like plants a lot. My old home didn’t have room for much but a little bed of roses and some plants on my windowsill, and my parents don’t like me tearing up the backyard, but I get to raise my little terrace garden.”

As Phil looks at the underside of a plant leaf, Dan fills up the can and dampens the soil.

“How long have you been raising plants?”

Phil stiffens at the question, his fingers tightening on the plant leaf. As his thumb moves back and forth on the leaf, he abruptly goes back to analyzing it, his mouth set in a firm line. “My first plant was a daisy. I started raising it when I was eight years old. It’s sitting in the corner, or at least its children are. I’ve been taking care of them since that first one… Why are you here?” Phil suddenly raised his eyes to look right at Dan, as if almost looking through him, his gaze quite suddenly sharp and intense, losing its usual dreamy quality.

Shocked, Dan nearly drops the watering can. “I- you- you invited me to come in here? Last night? I’m helping you water the plants, yeah?”

“No, why are you  _ here,  _ in this town. Besides, I invited you, you didn’t need to come. But you did. That’s very nice of you. I don’t understand why you came back. I think I understand why you’re in this town, but I don’t want to have to guess. You were hurt?” 

Phil continues to stare intensely at Dan, eyes flying around his face, and then down to the bottom of his shirt, where his midriff is showing, before Phil looks away, pulling his own pastel blue shirt down self-consciously, despite the fact that it’s already hanging down below his grey belt.

_ He knows he knows he hates you he hates you he hates you leave leave leave leave leave leave! _ “I… I just had to… Phil I can’t-” He doesn’t realize he’s started panicking until the salty tears hit his lips and he can hear his own ragged breaths echoing in his head - _ he’s going to hurt you too he hates you get out get out- _ like something louder than it is. The watering can with the sunflower painted on it drops to the ground, spilling and soaking through Dan’s red high tops but he can’t move, can’t do anything but stare at Phil and panic.

Phil’s breath speeds up as well, and for a moment he can only stand and stare of what Dan has been abruptly reduced to, before Phil suddenly yanks over small stool under the table and moves it beside Dan. He very slowly and gently reaches forward to guide Dan onto the stool. Phil then kneels in front of Dan, eyes searching Dan’s desperately and kindly, chewing his lip, and then opening his arm silently, waiting to see if this would help Dan. At first Dan doesn’t react, so Phil lowers his arms, however moments later Dan’s arms are around Phil, his sobs slowly beginning to subside. Phil flinches violently at the sudden contact, but then he wraps his arms around Dan as well, his arms noticeably high on Dan’s back, his hug loose.

While Phil holds him, Dan cries, shaking, wishing more than anything that he didn’t have to feel like this. He wants to go back and do something so that he never spent two weeks in the hospital, never had to testify against his classmates in court with a split lip, arm in a cast, bruised and battered, telling everyone exactly what they said when they beat him. His head is in a constant cycle of how much he should push Phil off of him, run away, shower and cry until it doesn’t hurt anymore, but his hands don’t move from their tight grip on the back of Phil’s shirt. By the time Dan’s crying has reduced to sniffles, his head is starting to pound, the way it always does afterward.

“A walk will clear your head, a slow, gentle walk,” Phil speaks suddenly, one arm wrapped around Dan’s shoulders loosely as he helps Dan stand. It takes Dan a moment to gain his balance, however the moment he does, Phil is gently leading him out into the yard, and then along the street until Phil points out a break in the fence. Leading Dan through, Phil begins a gentle pace along a dirt path which runs alongside a small, bubbling brook, trees lining the bank and tiny grasses sneaking onto the path. Phil keeps his gentle arm around Dan until Phil leads Dan off the trail, bringing him into a small clearing beside the stream, and Dan is shocked when he spots that the clearing is filled with well kept plants ranging from blackberries to little flowers scattered around the grasses.

“This is my other garden,” Phil murmurs. “I come here when I cry.”

Instead of replying, Dan leans further into Phil’s side, wanting to ask why Phil cries, but his voice dying in his throat. When Phil starts to sit on the dusty ground, Dan goes down with him and resituates his position so that his head is in the crook of Phil’s neck and his legs are spread out in front of him.

“You’re strange,” Phil speaks in his usual faraway voice, gazing down at Dan. “That isn’t a bad thing. I’m stranger. You’re just… You seem to fit together and yet a few things don’t quite seem to be a part of the puzzle at all. I’m sorry I asked about you like that. People who are hurting shouldn’t be pushed… They might topple a bit too much. I just… I don’t usually get attached to new people. I’m always afraid that a daffodil will turn out to be a snapdragon. Snapdragons are nice, but I’m afraid they’re not the best option for me. My mum explained your mum. You don’t fit with her description of your family. I’m glad.” Phil draws flowers in the dirt with one finger, hair falling in his eyes.

Dan nods and reaches up to fix Phil’s hair. He wants to talk back, but yet again, his voice fails, so he sits silently, feeling the warm, solid presence at his side-  _ that probably hates you he hates you he hates-  _ and trying to steady his breathing, which is still off and ragged.

“I sometimes like to count the flowers, and breath with my counting,” Phil speaks, eyes roaming the ground, before pointing to a little purple flower with a smile. “Theres one, and two, and three…” Phil counts the flowers slowly, his gentle voice rumbling softly, his breath tickling the hair by Dan’s ear. Slowly, Dan’s breathing evens out, and Phil smiles, tightening the arm around Dan’s shoulders slowly, testing this. When Dan doesn’t flinch, Phil’s shoulders untense. “You really are like a flower, perhaps a daisy, like my first flower. I think I like you nearly as much, perhaps just as much, as my flowers. You’re just as quiet today. It doesn't suit you. You should be smiling, like a monkey orchid.”

The comparison brings a grin to Dan’s face. It’s a long way off from happiness, and his eyes are still glassy with tears, but he smiles. He stares at Phil, watching him carefully. This garden has a different air about it than the greenhouse- it isn’t as busy, the air is fresher, and it feels more like Phil had given the plants a little nudge instead of raising them all himself. As he thinks about it, Dan absentmindedly plucks a raspberry off of a nearby bush and holds it up to put in Phil’s mouth, which the other boy happily accepts, albeit with a faint blush dusting his high cheekbones.

“You should have one too,” Phil  murmured as he let the sweet berry melt in his mouth. “They’re very fresh right now. This bush was the beginning of my garden here, you know. It was sick, it was dying… I couldn’t let it die, it still has more to give, it still has reason to be here. I saved it; I think it’s happy now. See how it’s thriving? It gives me the sweetest fruits, and now  you. So many people let plants die, thinking they have no feelings. I think they do, they’re just too quiet to let anyone know. You just have to watch for the signs.”

Dan nods, and twists off one for himself, popping it between his lips and sighing contentedly at the flavor despite Phil’s slightly odd words. Clearly, there’s more to this boy than meets the eye. The more Dan looks around, the prettier the garden appears, and more the words  _ I come here when I cry _ echo in his mind. Behind Phil’s eyes are a million stories, a million secrets being kept, and someday, Dan wants to unlock them all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's chapter will be late bc I'll be at UCLA

When given attention and care, plants can begin to flourish, and even bloom, their blossoms opening up to see the sun for the first time. Like a flower, Phil’s petals have begun to open, and for the first time since he could remember, Phil is fairly certain that he’s blooming. A smile is on his face as he gazes at his daisy in the corner. It’s in full bloom right now, matching his own feelings of warmth. A soft knock on the greenhouse door makes his smile broaden, stretching across his face. He doesn’t have to turn to know that it’s Dan. He’s been coming over every morning at this time for the past two weeks. After finishing watering the daisy, Phil spins and motions to some cookies, tea, and sandwiches, “I made us lunch.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, trotting over to Phil, his new crop top he bought for “school,” which starts in a couple weeks, even shorter than the last one he wore- it barely reaches the bottom of his ribs, and it’s a soft grey color with a purple crown on it. “And here I thought you were completely unaware of normal human customs,” he teases.

“Everything has to consume nutrients. Plants get it from soil, I like getting mine from cookies,” Phil smiled, also teasing, despite his odd words. He sits, motioning for Dan to do the same, however Phil pointedly ignores Dan’s shirt shirt, eyes looking everywhere else.

That makes Dan laugh as he pours two mugs of tea, reaching for sugar to add to his. “Me too. You know, Phil, you’re acting weird- well, weirder than usual. Everything okay?”

“Oh, I just…” Phil averts his eyes again, subconsciously pulling his own shirt down. “You look cold, maybe you should wear a jacket?” Phil swallows hard. “I just mean… Sorry. It's fine.” Phil swallows again. “I'm sorry, I guess I'm not used to fashion, style. I don't like dressing like that anymore.” Phil doesn't explain when he did like dressing like that, the statement being left open.

“Oh…” Dan looks down, blushing-  _ you’re stupid you made him uncomfortable he’s going to hate you he’s going to hate you-  _ “I’m sorry, I- do you want me to go home and change or something?”

“No, no please, I'm sorry, wear anything that makes you happy!” Phil says quickly, looking incredibly guilty for some reason. “It looks very nice on you, Dan. Is that why you left the other place? Sorry, that made no sense, I just mean… Never mind.” Phil yanks a cookie from the plate and munches it thoughtfully, looking down and wishing he wasn't so awkward. He also wonders, thoughtfully, if he'll ever know why Dan left. “Secrets are funny,” he says thoughtfully, continuing the munch the cookie.

Instead of really responding, Dan just watches Phil eat and takes a sip of his tea. Yet again, the topic of why Dan left his old home has been brought up, and Phil has just mentioned secrets out of nowhere. For some reason, instead of sounding invasive, Dan can’t help but find Phil to be similar to a curious puppy dog, inept at social interactions, but sweet and loving regardless. 

“What kind of tea is this?”

“Oh, this is matcha tea. It's like green tea, only I use matcha powder, do you like it?” Phil asks hopefully, tilting his head adorably. “It's very healthy and good for you. I decided to make it for you since maybe it can help you. I hoped that by making it, I could sort of take care of you. I would be very happy if you bloomed, like one of my roses. You seem happier, and you've certainly made me happier, but there's a missing piece of the puzzle. I'd like to solve you, Dan. Not to bring up something bad, but to help you. I know bringing up bad things can be very hurtful…. But maybe in the end it will help us both. Something about you being here frightens, I only hope that my worst fears about you aren't true… You're too kind for that.”

“It’s delicious, thank you. You make me happier too, but, Phil, I can’t talk about stuff yet. You have to understand?” Dan says around a cookie.

He starts to think about the comparison to roses, a flower so commonly associated with love and romance. The more he thinks about it, the more it also begins to occur to him that he doesn’t just want to be friends with Phil, even though Phil probably has no interest in anything else.

“Anyways, tell me: what can I do to help in here today?”

“I always tell you, you just being here helps,” Phil offers a kind smile, his blue eyes crinkling. He straightens his own baby blue shirt, giving a soft giggle. “Assuming the pink ice cream on my shirt doesn't make you too hungry, you can stop eating and we’ll get to watering and things. Also, I wanna show you. Come, look how healthy and happy my ferns are! They were curling up, but thanks to your advice they're doing well again. Look.” Phil reaches his hand out, however he blushes bright pink when Dan reaches out at the same time, and their hands touch. Instead of pulling away, however, Phil lets his hand close over Dan’s their fingers interlacing. Phil stares at the touch for a moment, before humming softly, a smile gracing his lips. Too soft to be heard quite right, Phil murmurs something about human contact, before he looks shyly up to meet Dan’s eyes.

The touch is unexpected, but not unwanted. Dan’s face breaks out into a large grin as he allows himself to be dragged to the ferns, which are reaching up into the sky majestically, leaving criss crossed shadows on their pot, the floor, and Dan and Phil. 

“I’m glad they’re better,” Dan says, looking up at Phil.

He doesn’t know quite how it happens, just that all of a sudden he can feel Phil’s warm hands on his lower back, his own arms are wrapped around Phil’s neck, he’s standing on the tips of his toes, and his lips are pressed against Phil’s. Despite the fact that they’re usually bitten raw, they’re soft and welcoming when Dan kisses him. Like any cliche movie, he feels something heated run from his head to his toes and he never wants to let go.

The kiss lasts all of ten seconds, yet before Dan knows what hit him, he's on the floor, his cheek and bum stinging from where he's fallen, Phil staring down at him with skin so pale it looks paper thin. Phil’s eyes are wild and terrified, his hands held up in surrender, before suddenly he’s dashing from the greenhouse, chased by the sounds of his sobs. Phil falls in the lawn, the palms of his hands and the knees of his blue cotton pants becoming painted with mud, however he scrambles again to his feet, sobbing even harder, and then he's out the back gate, dashing for somewhere he can cry.

Dan should follow him. He should, he should go after Phil, because he’s obviously upset and in need of comforting, but his feet have a different idea. They pick him up from the ground - _ the ground where he shoved you because you’re disgusting you’re disgusting he hates you _ \- and carry him home, tears running down his cheeks too, and into the downstairs bathroom so he can get out the first aid kit. Slowly and deliberately, he cleans out the shallow scrapes on his hands and his cheek, bandages them, and trudges upstairs to shower. Whenever Dan’s upset, that’s what he does, so he can pretend that he’s washing all of his troubles down the drain instead of holding onto them. He throws the (now stained with dirt) shorts into the trash, and buries the shirt deep at the bottom of his dirty clothes hamper when he gets out.

Day turns into sunset, and as the yellows and pinks of the clouds become painted across the sky, Dan hears soft noises from outside his terrace. Dejected as he is, he peeks out of the window, where he finds nothing there but a few small rocks sitting innocently on his balcony with no apparent reason or way they'd flown up to the second story. That night, Dan can hardly sleep, and he wakes frequently, finally giving up on sleep at 5am. When mid-morning comes, he thinks about whether or not to go to Phil’s. He stays in his room.

It isn't until that night that he ventures out due to more small noises out by his terrace. This time, though, it's not the sound of rocks, it's the sound of soft whimpers. They seem suspiciously close, nonetheless he opens the blinds and sees Phil huddled in a ball on the edge of his balcony. Dan almost screams.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” He whisper yells, not wanting to alert his parents despite the tears clinging to his lashes and the obvious distress of the boy in front of him. “Come inside, you shouldn’t be out here at night, it gets too windy.”

“My dad raped me when I was eight,” the words come out of nowhere. They're matter-of-fact, stated the same way one might state that yes, in fact, it is rather windy. They're so abrupt that Dan isn't sure he’s heard right, however Phil pushes on in that same, monotone, emotionless voice. “That's why I ran away from you. I like you, and I wanted to kiss you. I didn't know how I'd react. I've never kissed anyone since him. He left. He's gone now. When he left I planted my first flower. I chose to plant an English daisy, because English daisies represent innocence, and I wanted to nurture that, even if mine was gone. I wanted to see it grow up happy, to nurture and take care of it like mum said a parent does. I thought maybe I could be a good papa to my flower, so it could grow up and be happy. I just wanted my daisy to grow up and be happy, and know about good papas. I never left it.” Phil makes no move to stand, but instead continues to hug his knees, his gaze unfocused and far away. 

“Phil,” Dan says softly, going outside himself and sinking to his knees beside Phil so they’re at eye level. “I- I’m so sorry… did he ever get arrested for that?” In all honesty, Dan doesn’t know what to say. Sure, he and Phil have gotten close over the past few weeks, but it’s still not a long time and Phil’s emotionally closed off and he has no idea why Phil told him about this and what to do with the information.  _ Nothing, he thinks you’re gross, he doesn’t want you _ . “Tell me how to help.”

“No one can help, that's why I grow plants. I nurture them, and they're quite nice. The provide me with yummy fruit, and nice scents, and they make me feel better. No one has really be able to help besides my plants. But then no one had ever really tried, before you. Everyone says I'm strange, but you came to visit me anyway. As I told you, you being there helped. Your presence helped more than you know. I… I like you Dan,” Phil suddenly turns his gaze to stare at Dan, ignoring the question about whether his father was arrested. 

“But then again you're really my only friend. Of course I have the gardening club, but you're different. I wish I had a red rose right now, I'd give it to you. You know what a red rose means, yes? Everything is plants to me, they've been all I cared about for years. I almost forgot what it was to care about anyone besides Mum…” Phil swallows hard, one hand slowly landing on top of Dan’s, stroking Dan’s knuckles. His eyes are sad, but he hasn't shed a tear. Instead there's a sort of resignation about them.

Instead of answering, Dan leans into Phil’s side, because he can’t think of anything to say in response. He wants to say something reassuring, or find a proper response to Phil’s insinuation of a romantic gesture, but his tongue seems to fill up his mouth and prevent him from doing so. 

_ He was probably kidding, he doesn’t like you like that, you’re stupid stupid stupid _ \- “I know what they mean, and I… I care about you too.”

“Do you?” Phil’s face lights up with joy, and his hand closes around Dan’s. For a moment he seems to sit there studying Dan, and then very slowly Phil leans in, closer, and still closer. It's barely a ghost of a touch when his lips meet Dan’s cheek, and it's over in mere seconds, however when Phil leans back again, his face is bright and happy. After a moment, he lets out a genuine giggle, before out of the blue declaring. “Wanna see something? It's a secret, but I’ll show you!”

Phil suddenly pulls down his grey and pink ice cream t-shirt to reveal a tiny blue flower tattoo in the middle of his collar bone.

“It’s pretty,” Dan praises, reaching up hesitantly. “May I?” Nodding, Phil looks up at Dan as the boy’s fingers brush against the tattoo, which is vibrant and detailed, done with a practiced hand. “I’ve thought about getting tattoos before, but never actually done  anything. Sometimes I draw, though.” He rolls up his pajama pants to reveal a faded sharpie drawing of a rose, one he drew a week or so ago and hasn’t bothered to completely scrub away.

“That's beautiful,” Phil hums softly, tracing the lines with his fingers, a gentle smile on his face. He gazes at the drawing as if it's truly lovely, his eyes soft and warm. The rose is one that Phil imagines would be painted pink, just barely unfolding with its petals almost drooping, but still in tact. A soft smile painting his lips, Phil leans over and kisses it softly, before suddenly leaning against Dan and placing a very gentle arm around Dan’s shoulders and nuzzling into him. “It would look so lovely on you, Dan. If you get it, I'll be there with you. It stings a little, just like a rose thorn, but sometimes you have to get pricked before you see the beauty in the world. You're precious, like a rose, Dan. I'm so glad I met you.”

“I’m glad I met you too,” Dan whispers breathily, his cheeks heating up with a blush and his heart beating faster. He twists his fingers in his shirt, almost afraid to touch Phil, and keeps his eyes on the ground now. “Phil, what are we?”

“What?” Phil tilts his head like a confused little animal. “We’re two boys who love flowers. At least I think I love you nearly as much. Of course you can't fully love someone you've just met, but I feel like I've known you for years.” Phil’s blue eyes are nearly glowing in the dark, however suddenly there's a gust of wind, and then Phil’s shivering violently, cuddling closer to Dan.

It’s easy to pull Phil close in return, but Dan can’t help his face falling-  _ you should have known not to ask he doesn’t like you he- _ when Phil doesn’t understand the question. “There’s something too familiar and easy about talking to you, as though it was something premeditated by a God.” He pauses to consider the rest of what Phil said. “I think I prefer your company to those of plants.”

“Hm, plants are very nice company, but they don't talk, and they can't cuddle. Dan, perhaps I prefer your company to plants, too,” Phil hums softly, one hand playing with Dan’s curly hair, before Phil gives a soft, childlike giggle. “Your curl, it's like a piggy tail! You're right, in some cases it really might be nicer to have someone like you, rather than plants. Actually, when it comes to someone like you, specifically, I think I'd always prefer your company.” Phil’s childlike eyes study Dan again, little happy crinkles appearing on his face, before Phil gives a soft, kitten-like yawn. “Most people make me frightened, Dan, but you make me feel very safe. I think I could sleep next to you, and I wouldn't even have nightmares, because I'd be thinking about you. What do you think about, when I'm not around?”

“I’m glad I don’t frighten you.” Taking a moment to consider Phil’s question, Dan stares back into Phil’s eyes, thinking in the back of his mind what a pretty mixture of blues, golds, and greens they are. “I think about a lot. Some stuff that happened to me, things I want to do in the future, you- a lot of stuff.”

“What made you leave your old home?” Phil murmurs softly. It's halfway between a statement and a question, and it lingers in the air like the scent of one of Phil’s pungent flowers, or a fruit on a tree, just about to go bad. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Dan lies, standing up and pushing Phil away gently. “You should go home and get some rest, Phil.”

“You're sad,” Phil frowns, examining Dan. “I'm sorry, I only want to help you. You're like my Moon flower. You're sick. Not with a temperature, you're ill on the inside, all your feelings are mixed up and muddled. I care about you, Dan. I'd like to help you. Please? If you tell me I won't do anything except sit and try to make it better.” Phil’s eyes search Dan’s, his teeth pulling one plump lip between them nervously. 

_ He doesn’t care he doesn’t care he doesn’t care _ \- “Drop it,” growls Dan. He wants to open up, the same way Phil just did, but the event is too fresh in his mind, too painful still for him to even begin to describe. 

Phil’s face falls, and he swallows hard, before murmuring a soft ‘sorry’ and turning towards the balcony nervously. There's a slight mist in the air, causing things to feel moist and slippery. He eyes the way he came up with trepidation, and instead of moving closer, Phil backs up and bumps into Dan, one fist curling into Dan’s shirt with a fast hold. Dan can feel Phil’s fist quaking.

“Phil?” The word is heavy on his tongue and his heart is racing again but for an entirely different-  _ get out get away get away let go of me don’t touch me _ \- reason than it was less than ten minutes ago. “Phil, what are you doing?”

“I'm scared,” Phil whimpers softly. “I… I'm scared of heights. I came up here because I… I wanted to see you. I dunno how to get home. May I sleep here on the balcony tonight, please? And go home by going down the stairs in the morning? I'll stay out here, promise. I… Please?” Phil turns his face desperately to Dan, tears clinging to his lashes, his face innocent and afraid.

Rolling his eyes, Dan pries Phil’s fingers from his shirt and opens the doors to inside. “You’re not sleeping outside. Do you mind sharing a bed?”

“I… If you don't,” Phil bites his lips together nervously. “I trust you, Dan. May we cuddle, just a little bit? Not… Full cuddling. Just… So we’re not alone? I think that's what people like us do. You know, people who want to… To be more than friends? Of course you may want to be just friends. I'm sorry… I shouldn't have said that. I'm afraid I'm not very good with people, I'm only good with flowers.” 

“Of course,” Dan says softly. “Let’s get you some pajamas and go to sleep.”


	4. Chapter 4

The morning brings a little bit of confusion; Dan’s room is mostly as it should be, with everything placed correctly, his pajama pants slung low on his hips, and his brightly covered duvet pulled up to his shoulders, but there’s something not quite right. The something is the warm, bare chest his face is pressed against as opposed to a pillow. Eyes wide, Dan slowly looks up to see Phil’s face. His blue eyes are shut, his hair messy, and lips slightly parted.

“Phil?” Dan whispers, pushing himself into a sitting position and shaking Phil gently. “Phil, c’mon, wake up.”

“Mum?” Phil hums, slowly looking up, however when he sees Dan next to him, Phil’s eyes widen almost comically and his jaw drops. For a moment it looks as if Phil is going to dash out of bed and hightail it home, but when Dan doesn't make any sort of move toward him, Phil visibly relaxes back into the mattress, and then he even dares to snuggle a bit closer to Dan. “I forgot I stayed here… It was nice. It made me feel like I wasn't lonely. You're very nice to snuggle, Dan. You're warm, and I felt safe in your arms. Thank you.”

With a crooked smile, Dan adjusts the covers around them. “My pleasure. You know, we do have to get up before my parents so we can sneak you back home.”

“Oh, alright,” Phil sighs softly, his face more relaxed, happy, and contented than Dan has even seen before. Stretching lazily, Phil swings his legs over the bed and flashes a smile at Dan. “Come on, let's sneak back the greenhouse, I want to give you something.” Smiling comfortingly, Phil holds out his hand, expectantly waiting for Dan to take it.

With a matching grin, Dan grabs Phil’s hand and guides him down the stairs and into the backyard so they can make their way to Phil’s greenhouse. The morning is still slightly chilly, and dew clings to the grass and the sides of the greenhouse. When they get inside, Dan grabs a forgotten jacket from a bench and pulls it around his bare torso to fend off the cold. Phil slept in a shirt the night before, so he just watches for a minute.

“You seem very open and willing to wear pink and show off your skin,” Phil says abruptly, the comment offhanded and out of the blue. “It's interesting. Most people are much more self conscious. It's refreshing, how you are. I'm just not used to it. I'm used to hiding who I am. I haven't hid myself from you, though, I want you to know that. Dan, here, this is for you.” Phil grabs a pair of pliers and examines a rose bush. He murmurs what sounds like a soft apology to the bush, before cutting off a perfect red rose and presenting it to Dan.

“Thanks,” Dan says quietly, turning to kiss Phil’s cheek gingerly. “You’re too adorable. Now, tell me, what are you going to do with this place once school starts up next week?”

When he really thinks about it, Dan’s terrified to go back to school; it means new classes with new people, plenty of opportunities for someone to hate him, bully him, beat him up, or remind him what it means to be a real man. Maybe it won’t be so bad with Phil at his side, but the prospect of returning to high school, even a new one, is nerve wracking.

“Oh, I'll just keep working here after school, of course,” Phil smiled. “I would very much like to open a nursery after high school, so I need to keep working at my flowers and plants. You're still welcome to come over anytime… I hope that you do. It's like you're a part of this place now, Dan. It's lonely without you.” For a moment, Phil hesitates, and then suddenly he’s leaning in to give Dan a deeper kiss. For a moment Phil seems nervous, but then his lips begin to move, and he's letting one hand rest on Dan’s back. It's a steadying presence, allowing Dan to remain safe and sane, a memory that Phil is the one kissing him, and Phil will never hurt him. When the kiss ends, Phil swallows nervously, but his eyes are bright. “I'll see you soon. You should get home before your parents miss you. Thank you for everything, Dan. I… I love you?”

Blinking, Dan hesitates for a moment too long, shocked by the sudden admission. “I love you too,” he says breathlessly, and runs back home, the thorns of his rose biting into his hand.

He manages to get inside quietly and runs water into a thin vase for his rose, which he takes upstairs to set on his nightstand before getting dressed for the day. His mother wants to go school supplies shopping, and there’s no doubt she’ll be up in under an hour to make breakfast and get the supply list off the school’s website. While he places the flower crown, which has long since dried but is still pretty, that Phil gave him at the start of the summer onto his head, Dan wonders if he and Phil are a couple, and how open they should be about it come the dreaded first day of junior year.

That day passes for Dan all too slowly without Phil. His school shopping expedition is spent mostly pondering what supplies might match with Phil’s flower obsession, and the car ride seems to last forever. Eventually Dan arrives home, tossing a melee of folders and binders on his bed, collapsing beside them with a sigh. His hair has curled throughout the day and he plays with it absentmindedly, passing the minutes away with a lazy smile. Perhaps if Phil is in school the experience won't quite be as terrible. 

Dan reminds sprawled on his bed for close to an hour, and his eyelids are drooping, when there's an abrupt  _ bang _ on the door to his balcony, followed by two more, and accompanied by a thunderstorm of sobs.

He jumps up and throws open the door in alarm, where Phil is on the terrace, crying his eyes out. “Phil? Love, come inside, what’re you doing? How’d you even get up here again?”

“He's back, he's back, oh God he's back, he's back, Dan  _ he’s back, he's back,”  _ Phil is suddenly collapsing in Dan’s arms, muttering the phrase over and over, sobbing uncontrollably, and then gagging slightly through his cries. His eyes are pressed shut and he's clinging blindly to Dan’s shirt, his big hands caressing the other boy’s back in a way that might be tender if it wasn't so desperate and helpless.

“Who’s back? Talk to me, c’mon…”

“My dad,” Phil whimpers, hiding his face in Dan’s chest. He simply pants for several seconds, trying to stop crying and catch his breath. It's after several tense moments before Phil is able to gather himself together enough to speak again. “My dad. I thought he was gone, but he's  _ back _ . Do you have any idea what that means? I mean of course you don't but… I know what this  means, and I don't know what to do, Dan. I can't believe he'd come back _. _ ” 

Phil swallows hard, spent from this outburst, and he collapses against Dan, sniffling and trying not to wake the neighborhood with his soft sobs. As Dan tightens his arms around Phil, he can’t help being angry. It hurts to think about what Phil’s father had done before abandoning his family to carry on like nothing had ever happened.

“I’ll protect you,” Dan whispers. “Does your mum know?”

“Yes, someone was knocking and I was home alone. I didn't want to answer so I called mum cause the person wouldn't go away. She was just at a neighbor’s chatting, you know, so she came home to see someone on the porch. I mean obviously cause he wouldn't go away. And I almost came out then so she wouldn't be alone facing this stranger but then he started talking and I, I knew. His voice has always been so loud and booming and I knew it was him right away. She said that he had to leave, that he isn't part of our lives now and you know what he did? He… He hit her. He hit mum! So I ran out and then he was just angry at everyone and then somehow he was in the house and once he's in the house it's always the same. Mum just gives up, or something. She always did. And now it's as if he never left. I couldn't stay there, I just couldn't. So I came here. I know it's late, I'm sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

Even though he doesn’t want to move, Dan’s itching to grab his phone and call the police, or do  _ something _ to help Phil and his sweet mum. He would yell for his own parents to help, but raising his voice around Phil in this state is obviously the worst possible decision. He slips one hand from around Phil’s waist to grab his phone that’s on the floor about a foot away. 

He dials three familiar numbers. “I’m calling the police, okay love? They’ll help.”

“No, you can't do that!” 

Dan isn't sure what happened next, but moments later he's on the ground, holding his head, and Phil’s on the other side of the balcony, holding his phone.

“I'm sorry, I can't let you do that,” Phil shakes his head, gazing at the phone as if it's a snake waiting to bite him. “You don't understand, Dan. I have my plants and my beautiful greenhouse, and you now, but mum doesn't have anything but me and her job. And her job isn't amazing or anything like that. She could call the police, of course, but you don't know my dad. Everyone loves my dad, you know? He was in drama club in high school. I think he was the president. He's everyone's favorite person. If mum called the police I'd be so scared. No one would question my dad. He's got a way with people that makes everyone believe him. And mum doesn't have the money for a proper lawyer or anything like that. In a perfect world, Dan, it could be so simple. With my dad, nothing is simple…” 

Phil’s back slid down the fence around the balcony until his arms were curled around his knees, Dan’s phone still clasped tightly in one hand. He’s biting a nail on his other hand, fighting and seeming unable to sit completely still. Phil’s gaze travels off as it so often does, and for a moment he seems lost in thought, as if he's in another world entirely and has forgotten that Dan is even there.

Even though he’s a little dizzy from his head hitting his floor, Dan stands up and scrambles over to his balcony, looking down at Phil on the ground. His phone’s screen is still lit up, and Dan prays that it’s because he pressed dial in time and 999 heard everything Phil said. In all likelihood, he knows that that’s probably not the case, but he still has hope. A horrible fear in the pit of his stomach, Dan turns around to go back inside. He stands uselessly in his room for a moment before sprinting downstairs.  _ Landline _ . His mum stops him to ask what he’s doing, but Dan doesn’t care. He just needs to help because no one should hurt sweet, innocent Phil who grows flowers and smiles rarely. 

“H- hello?” He says into the receiver, avoiding his mother’s questioning stare.

“Hello, what is your emergency?” An almost bored voice comes over the line.

Dan scrambles to remember his address. “My boyfriend’s abusive dad just came home, and he hit Phil’s mum, and they’re in danger, and he’s going to hurt him again, and-” He’s too panicked to register that he just outed himself to his mum. Dan’s never been this scared in his life.

“It's going to be alright,” the woman’s voice is now soft and gentle as she speaks across the phone. “Is this at your house or someone else’s? Don't worry, we’re sending help.”

Upstairs, there's a small crash of some sort, and then there's footsteps on the stairs. Dan flinches. “Next door, he lives next door, please hurry…” He rambles off his address and Phil’s, then lowers the phone from his ear to look at his mother, who seems to be moments away from screaming. 

_ She didn’t know why they bullied you. You’re so stupid. Hope you enjoyed what time you had because she’s going to kick you out onto the streets. _

Dan’s mum opens her mouth, clearly about to give some sort of lecture, when the kitchen door slams open, revealing Phil’s quaking form. He looks back and forth between Dan and his mother for several seconds, before he seems to completely disregard Dan’s mum and he stumbles up to Dan in a way that makes him nearly appear drunk, though Dan knows Phil couldn't have drunk anything.

“Dan you… You didn't call, did you?” Phil’s voice is a whimper as he searches Dan’s eyes for the answer. When Dan evades Phil’s gaze, it's like something snaps inside of Phil, and then with absolutely no warning, he roars out, “You called them? You called? You did, didn't you!”

“What's going on?”

The three occupants of the kitchen turn to see Dan’s father in the doorway, and for a moment there's silence. Then, suddenly, Phil’s letting out a crying sob. With a burst of motion, Phil dashes to the door, shoves past Dan’s father, and then he's zipping out of the house, his feet seeming to control his thinking.

“Can we talk about this later Mum?” Dan asks, getting to his feet to run after Phil and hanging up the 999 call. “I’ve gotta go after him.”

He bolts out the door, and searches the street for Phil. Just at the end of the road is Phil in his familiar pastel blue jumper, still running. Dan sprints after him, not calling his name just in case his father might hear until they round the corner.

“Phil! Please, slow down, it’s just me!”

Phil glances backwards, yet something in the figure dashing after him causes Phil more terror than reassurance. It's clear, when he turns down the bike path, where Phil is trying to get to. Dan’s suspicion is proven correct when Phil stumbles into his second garden, falling to his knees in the grass beside a bed of purple posies. Hiccuping, Phil reaches out to gently touch one of them, tracing his finger along the petals as, under his breath, he begins to slowly count the flowers. On the eighth one, his eyelids slide shut as his breath begins to return to normal.

There isn’t anything to say.

Slowly, Dan sinks down to sit beside Phil, close enough that he could touch him in an instant, but just far enough that he doesn’t. The air is warm and sticky, intensified by the exertion of running, but that doesn’t matter very much now that they’re both safe. Other than the heavy sound of their breathing and the occasional whisper of wind, the little garden is silent. Dan notes how much different everything looks bathed in moonlight as opposed to the bright sunlight, the only way he’d seen it before this.

“I told you I come here when I cry,” Phil’s voice makes Dan jump, spinning his head to look at the dark haired boy beside him. “I didn't want to have you see one of those times, but then you don't seem to do very much that I want. Do you? You look like a flower, Dan, but you're not very much like one at all, really. Or at least you're not like mine. Mine are ones that I nurture, and then they make me so happy. Mine are ones that need a little help, sometimes, so that they don't wilt. You're not like that, Dan, even if you think you are. No, you really are a weed. You grow all on your own, even when someone doesn't want you to grow, even if they don’t nurture you, you do anyway. Because you're strong, Dan. But you're the nice kind of weed. Have you ever seen a dandelion? You're like that. You're pretty, and you look like flower, but you're a weed. But you know, maybe you're the kind of weed that people don't mind having around. Even if some people mind, I don't, I don't think.”

It stings, honestly, when Phil tells Dan that he’s not like one of Phil’s flowers. That had been one of the things that started their friendship and love life. As much as Dan likes to think that Phil’s the one who needs help, he knows that he needs it too. He needs the love and assurance that Phil’s been providing in his strange way. He doesn’t know what to think when Phil compares him to a dandelion; he wants to cry because  _ I thought I was helping _ , but at the same time, Phil just said that he doesn’t intend to get rid of him.

“I don’t mean to be a weed,” he says finally, and even to his own ears, his voice sounds hollow.

Phil’s head turns quickly, as if he'd almost forgotten Dan’s presence again. After seeming to analyze him for a moment, Phil gives a small sigh.

“It's not a bad thing. Not in the long run,” Phil murmurs. “You think you need help, you think you can't do it on your own, but you can. I can tell. You're stronger than you think, Dan. Me, I'm too delicate for my own good. Most everyone thinks so. Everyone thinks I'm the crazy kid who lost his mind when he was eight. Maybe they're right. If they're right, they sure are good at avoiding me. It's funny, people say they want to help others all the time. Then when they see someone who really needs help, they turn away. They're not strong, not like you. Sometimes being a weed, being strong enough to hold on and help, makes you very special. May I cuddle you?”

Again, Dan’s speechless. He opens his arms and lets Phil dive into them, both of them unable to help more tears. Everything about living hurts, and it’s absolutely awful, but maybe together they can push through it.

“I love you,” Dan says finally.

“I love you too,” Phil’s amazingly quick to answer. He almost seems surprised at himself. Swallowing, Phil shifts in Dan’s arms, getting comfortable before he slowly speaks. “Dan, I'm sorry if I messed things up with your parents back there. I'll talk to them, assuming nothing goes horribly wrong when the police show up. I should be at home right now, and yet I'm so scared to go back. I don't want to go there, Dan. I don't want to face it. But then running away solves very little. But you ran away, didn't you? You never have told me why you moved.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Dan starts. “And we should go back, but I’ll go with you. And, uh…” He stops to clear his throat and blink back tears. “At my old high school, the kids bullied me for being gay. They would say awful things to me, pass me mean notes and I got shoved in the hallway and stuff. Things got really bad out of nowhere last year. The other kids would beat me up a lot. Sometimes they even followed me home. My mum decided to move here when a football player put me in the hospital, and she never knew why they hated me. I guess she knows now.”

He realizes what he said and bites his lip, not quite sure what he’s so afraid of.

“I'm surprised your mum didn't know. Or more to the point that you hadn't told her. I'm sorry, I was horrible and assumed things I suppose. You always dress so…” Phil blushed brightly, quickly moving on. “Well anyway I thought your parents knew. My mum just thinks I'm loony, I think, but I think she likes me okay anyway. I dunno if she thinks I like boys. I think she thinks I just don't like people in general. She's mostly right, of course, my friends are my plants. But you're an exception. You're special, Dan. You were nice when everyone else called me crazy. Did I ever say thank you? I dunno. But thank you, Dan. You'll come back with me? Please? I dunno if I can on my own. My mum’s right. I don't like most people. Police scare me, though I'm not sure why. They seem so direct, and I'm afraid they'll step on my flowers or something. Most people don't realize how precious a flower’s life is.”

“Phil Lester you are one of the most insightful people I know.”

Dan doesn’t say anything else. He eases Phil out of his lap and stands up, extends a hand to help Phil, and then starts walking back to the house. His heart is pounding out of his chest, and he’s sure Phil’s is too, but there’s something steadying about the pressure of holding hands with Phil and pulling him down the sidewalk. When they get home, two squad cars are in front of Phil’s house and one officer is standing at the doorway with a gun in hand, looking prepared to break past the entryway.

“I think I'm ready,” Phil’s voice was a whisper. “I wonder if they have dad yet… Is it bad I still call him dad? Well, anyway, can you please help me be strong? Help me, please, Dan. I can do this if I'm with someone. And besides mum, there's no other human more special in the world to me than you. I'm ready, if you're there. Let's face this together.”


	5. Chapter 5

It’s honestly a terrifying experience; the only other time Dan’s interacted with the police was after he was put in the hospital at his old school, and the ones there weren’t understanding or kind. Their stance was that he should have been able to protect himself, because  _ you are a boy, aren’t you _ ? Now, looking at them preparing to break into Phil’s home, he wants to cry, but he has to stay strong for Phil, who’s clinging to his hand and looks like he could collapse at any minute.

Phil watches in shock as for one moment all is quiet, and then it's like hell breaks loose. The bang of the door swinging open on its old hinges lodges in his mind as the police shout something or other into the house. Phil wants to dash forward right then, but his knees are weak, leaving him to watch in shock as the man he hasn't seen in years is being dragged onto the porch. Phil is surprised by how good he looks, but then his father always was immaculate. His hair is parted stylishly and combed back into resembling a movie star’s hair the night he walks the red carpet. He's in a pressed grey suit, though it’s coming unbuttoned. 

“I'm so sorry, but there must be some sort of misunderstanding,” Phil’s father’s accent is akin to those on the BBC.

“There isn’t!” Dan yells, letting go of Phil to run over. “You assaulted my boyfriend and you hit his mum, and-” He’s cut off by a police officer dragging him away before he can say any more. 

“Who's that?” One of the police officers demands, shaking Phil’s father, who winces, his face growing frightened at this aggressive act.

“I honestly don't know, I've never seen him before,” Phil father shakes his head, gazing baffled at Dan. Phil watches, dumbfounded as his mum wanders onto the porch, escorted by another officer. Phil’s father turns to her, his voice suddenly gentle and kind. “Darling, are you alright? They haven't hurt you, have they? Good, good. Love, have you seen that boy before? Do you know who he is?”

Phil’s mother hesitates, eyes flickering about, and for a moment hope rushes into Phil’s chest. It only lasts for a moment before its dashed away with just a few simple phrases.

“Well, yes, he's a new neighbor. His family just moved in the last couple weeks or so. I'm afraid I don't know him very well,” Phil’s mother bites her lip, and it's that moment when Phil feels his heart sink.

“I’ve lived here all summer!”

Dan looks back at Phil, then to his mother, whose eyes are apologetic.

“And he doesn’t know me because he walked out of Phil’s life after fucking  _ raping _ his eight year old!”

Everyone flinches at the word, but Dan doesn’t care. He can’t seem to stop talking, and never before has he ever wanted to hit someone so badly. The police clearly believe the adults more than they do him, but he’s praying that things will be okay and they’ll protect Phil. 

“You- you have to believe me, I…”

“Where did you hear this information?” One of the officers demanded, turning to Dan and focusing his gaze, intimidating enough to melt metal, on Dan. “Did you see any of this happen? Have you see the man hit his wife or son?”

“Phil told me, and he doesn’t lie. He’s a good kid, he’s really sweet. He told me his Dad would lie because he’s good at it and I think Katherine’s just to scared to say anything.”

He knows he’s already lost. The police don’t believe him because he’s just a sixteen year old kid in hysterics over what looks like nothing. Dan can’t bring himself to look back at Phil. Maybe he shouldn’t have called the police until he had more evidence than what Phil had said, but he doesn’t want to think about Phil hurting. Now he feels stupid and immature. All he’s accomplished is making Phil’s father angry.

“You,” the officer pushes past Dan. Phil is curling in on himself, his arms grasping his biceps tight enough to turn his fingers white. When the officer addresses him, it doesn't even seem to register. Instead Phil gazes past the man, his eyes centered on his father. It doesn't seem like so long since he's seen that man. It's been years, and yet he looks the same. He had always been charming, that's why his mother fell in love with him. Phil used to love him. He still remembers when he thought his father was the most wonderful thing since sliced bread. Now that seems like a long time ago.

“Kid!” The officer demands, and finally Phil’s gaze centers on the tall police man who's snapping his fingers beside Phil’s ear. “Yes, you, kid. Are you the one who told this boy these stories? Perhaps it’s better speak to you on your own.”

“He used to do that.” It's almost a shock when Phil’s voice cuts through the night. His eyes are lost, and his voice is quiet as he shivers in his thin, baby blue jumper. “He used to speak to me, before he went away. That was before I had my flowers. I have one special flower that made me better. I was better for a long time. He… He went away, you know. He was gone. He just came back. I… I don't want him to hurt my flowers.”

The officer turns to his partner and mouths the words ‘ _ fucking loony _ .’ “Alright kid, why don’t you come with me and we’ll get you somewhere safe, and Officer Liguori will make sure no one hurts your flowers.”

“No, no you don't understand! They're important! Just like mum. Mum used to be like a rose, and now she's like a daisy, don't you see? People step on daisies all the time. He's going to step on her. I can't go away, not like he did. Please, you have to help her. She understands. She lets me take care of all of my plants. They're in the back. They were there when everyone went away. They were my friends before Dan. Please, I can't explain it, you have to understand,” Phil’s voice trails off, his shivers growing worse. Phil looks helplessly, his gaze lingering for a moment on each person, but landing on Dan. Their eyes meet as Phil blinks and his lashes come away clumped and wet. When he speaks again, his voice is soft and hopeful “You understand, I know. But you told, when I begged you not to. Please fix this. You can fix it.”

“Phil…” Dan wants to keep believing Phil, but there’s something desperate about the way he speaks that makes it feel wrong. He should stand by him, but he also wants to back down. He doesn’t know anything about their family other than what Phil’s told him, and he doesn’t want any more trouble than he’s already in. He steels himself before he keeps taking. “Phil, your dad seems like a nice guy. Your mum says everything’s fine and honestly, you’re acting like a child. A loony, stupid child. I don’t know why I believed a psycho like you on anything.”

He turns away and tries not to cry.

A thick silence hangs in the night for several moments. Nobody moves, nobody speaks, yet when the officer begins to gently reach forward to knab Phil, the spell is broken tenfold.

“How dare you?!” Phil is suddenly screaming, launching forward into to have the two closest officers scramble to hold him back. Phil doesn't fight them, but he continues to scream out loud enough that everyone within two blocks must be waking up. “You said you'd help me! I begged you not to call the police, I begged you, and you did it anyway! You called them! I begged you and you called them! He's going to hurt her and you called them! I… I… I…” 

Phil’s panting suddenly, his breath hardly coming to him as he tries to scream, cry, and just breath, but suddenly none of the three are coming to him and then he's barely able to stay on his feet in the officers’ iron grips as he tries desperately to force air into his lungs. His eyes fly about, never quite landing on anything until he spots a clump of daffodils in the front yard. Finally his gaze lands on them, and he begins to count out loud, though his chest is still heaving.

“I’m sorry,” is all Dan can say, and even then, no one hears him. He turns to look at Catherine, but she won’t meet his eyes. Phil’s father is staring at him though, with something stormy on his expression.

Dan walks away, back into his home, past his shocked parents, and upstairs to his bedroom. It feels fake, forced, with all the flowers that populate it. Most of them were either gifts from Phil or something Phil helped him grow. It’s heartbreaking to look at them now, knowing what he’s just done to the person who coaxed them from seeds to full bloom. If he had any more tears to give, he would be crying right now, but his eyes stay dry. Dan doesn’t cry much anymore.

“He called you,” Phil whimpered to nobody in particular. “He called, not me. I didn't want to tell. Please, I didn't want to tell, he did. I didn't call. I didn't tell anyone. Just Dan. Dan was my only friend, don't you see? I told the plants but only Dan really counts, doesn't he?”

“I'm so sorry, officers,” Phil’s father speaks in an almost soothing voice. “Phil has had problems with delusions for some time now. They weren't so bad when he was younger, but as he's aged they've gotten much worse. We didn't realize how bad they'd gotten, though. Please, if there's anywhere you can send him that might be able to help him, I'm happy to pay the price.”

“Of course,” says the first officer, the one who questioned Dan about the validity of his information. The second hesitates, and the two of them share a long moment of silent communication. “I’ll be taking him to Ambrose. My partner here is going to have to stick around and collect statements from you and your neighbor- a formality of course.”

“Of course,” Phil’s father smiles, dipping his head in a small incline. Phil opens his mouth and for a moment everyone is worried he's going to start screaming again, but instead his voice is quiet.

“Please, take care of them. Dan, where is Dan? Dan can take care of them until I get back. Dan? Where is Dan? Dan, where did you go? Dan? Please, take care of my plants. They're not weeds, they need help. Where is Dan?” Phil’s head whips around, his voice growing heavy as he pushes back tears of apparent confusion.

The officer rolls his eyes, stuffs Phil in the back of the police car, and then gets in the front seat. After backing out, he takes a deep breath and starts talking. “Calm down, kid. Your friend went home. My partner is sticking around just to make sure that nothing bad happens to your friend or your mum or your plants, okay? Okay.”

“I didn't want to call you,” Phil repeats, gazing at the man as if maybe somehow wishing for him to believe the story will somehow magically fix everything. “I really didn't. Please, sir, please believe me. It was him, not me. I don't tell stories. I'm not just telling you a story, I'm telling you the truth. Don't you see?”

“I believe you. But we’re still going to Ambrose to make sure you’re okay.”

Meanwhile, back home, the other officer is sitting on the Howells’ back porch, listening and gently shushing Dan’s parents whenever they try to talk. He’s waiting for something, but it’s unclear what. After ten minutes of nothing, he’s about to leave when Phil’s father yells something indistinct and the sound of glass breaking fills the air. The officer springs to his feet and runs to the fence, hops over it, and goes to the Lesters’ front door. It’s not locked, and opens easily when he turns the knob. 

Mr. Lester is standing over Catherine in the lounge, her hands over her head and a broken vase on the floor. “Freeze! Police!” the Officer yells, grabbing his gun from his holster. “Robert Lester, you’re under arrest for domestic battery.”

“Officer!” Mr. Lester stumbles backwards, his face ashen as Catherine slowly looks up at the police officer, absolute shock on her face. She almost opens her mouth to speak, yet it slowly closes, fear still incredibly apparent in her eyes when her husband speaks again. “Sir, ah, you stepped in at the most inopportune moment. I'm an actor, you see and we were… We were simply rehearsing a scene. That's why Phil was always so confused. I'm sure now you'll straighten him out. He always was an awful little boy when he came to telling stories.”

Catherine gazes at Mr. Lester for several moments. His face is almost calm, as if this story was not something improvised or rehearsed, and yet that seems to unleash something inside Catherine, who takes that moment to scramble away, her eyes suddenly on fire.

“Telling stories,” Catherine’s voice is low, and yet her eyes are almost sad. “He's not the one who loves telling stories. You always had a good story up your sleeve. I always wanted to believe you. I did, honestly. At first it was because of love, and then it was because of fear. I don't think Phil has ever told a lie in his entire life. That was always your job, and… And he left it to you!”

With that, Catherine scrambles further back, her eyes flying to the police officer, trust infiltrating her gaze as she allows these words to slip from her lips. The hope Dan so often sees in Phil’s eyes is suddenly in Catherine’s as she sits, waiting for the officer to act and finally end her and her son’s nightmare.

The officer gives her a reassuring smile before focusing on Mr. Lester again. “Hands up, legs apart.” He approaches cautiously, pats Mr. Lester down, then cuffs his hands behind his back. “Ma’am, your son is on his way to Ambrose with my partner for an eval. They’ll be contacting you.” At that, he drags Mr. Lester out to his patrol car and puts him in the back.

Catherine sits in shock for a moment, before dashing out of her house and hesitating by the car.

“Sir,” she speaks softly, clearly struggling to get her words out. “I… I don't feel able to drive at the moment and I just want to be close to my baby. He's not crazy, officer. I'm so sorry. I'm sure I'm in trouble. I lied. I'm so sorry I lied I just… I'm sorry, he's not crazy. He's a bit odd, he has been for years but not crazy. Please, may I please be close to him? He needs someone close to him or he gets very afraid. He doesn't like strangers.”

“We can drive you, if it's alright,” Mrs. Howell volunteers, her family slowly following her down the pavement. Her hand slips into her husband’s for reassurance. Both she and Mr. Howell stand tall and strong, looking to the officer to see if this is alright, but Dan is trailing noticeably far behind her parents. 

The officer looks between them. “You can go if you want, but there’s no guarantee they’ll let you see him. Crazy or not, he’s clearly not in a good place right now, ma’am.”

Dan shuts his eyes and tries not to cry. He’s beyond disappointed in himself for forsaking Phil like he did, especially when he needed him most. His mum tosses him the keys to unlock the car door while his parents and Catherine talk with the officer a little more. After unlocking it, he slides into the backseat and puts his head in his hands. Phil probably doesn’t want to see him.

“Did you really call the police?” Dan jumps slightly when Catherine’s gentle voice fills the car. His parents have slipped into the front seats while she is seated beside him in the back. She's wringing her hands repeatedly, though she doesn't seem to notice. Instead, she seems focused on looking for some kind of truth, her soft blue eyes searching his.

He nods and reaches for her hands to steady them. “Yeah, I- Phil was really upset and he didn’t want me to, but I did.”

“Thank you, thank you for believing him and doing the right thing,” Cathrine murmurs, gazing down at her hands for a moment before pulling her gaze back up to his face. “You're so brave. Honestly, I can never repay this. When his father left I thought he'd never come back. Tonight I was so shocked and afraid that I didn't know what to do… Thank you, Daniel.”

“Of course.”

The rest of the car ride is silent, everyone contemplating the evening’s events.

When they arrive at Ambrose, Dan and Catherine jump out of the car, leaving the Howells to find a parking space while they run in to look for Phil. The receptionist says that he’s in the middle of an evaluation and that they’ll have to wait for him to be done. Without anything else to do, Dan and Catherine sit down in the lobby and wait. It’s nearly half an hour before Phil emerges, followed by a man with a wrinkled, old face to come in. Phil dives straight into Dan’s arms.

“You're here, you didn't leave forever,” Phil speaks into the space between Dan’s shoulder and neck, his hug tight and reassuring. “I was so scared you'd leave forever Dan. Some people don't matter quite so much, but you matter a lot, to me at least. You're the dandelion, the weed in my garden that is so pretty and nice, that some people might want to get rid of, but I love and appreciate and wish would stay forever. I thought you'd left me...”

“I would never leave you,” Dan says, tightening his arms too and tuning out everything but the weight of Phil back in his arms, where he belongs.

Eventually, they do part, revealing Catherine in near tears, with her arms folded. “Phil, they want you to stay overnight,” she says.

“Overnight?” Phil bites his lips together for a moment, looking confused. “But this isn't my home. What about my plants? They'll be okay tonight, but what about in the morning? The people here… They think I'm strange, don't they? They are like the one who think I'm not like other people, aren't they mum? You said some people will think I'm strange sometimes because I care about plants and animals the way most people only care about humans. I remember you saying that, mum, but you never said they'd keep me from going home. Did they say how long until I can go home?”

“Phil, it’s okay,” Dan says before Catherine can reply. “They just want to make sure you’re alright, and I’ll take care of your flowers. I’m sure you’ll be home tomorrow, and if not, I’ll come visit you and keep taking care of your garden, don’t worry. It’s gonna be okay.”

Phil gives Dan a long, speculative look, and then to Dan’s shock, Phil face begins to slowly change. Maybe it was Dan’s words, but more likely it was Dan’s tone. Phil’s face changes from an expression of fright, to one of disgust and sadness.

“No, Dan, not you too,” Phil murmurs, his voice soft enough that Dan can barely hear it. “Everyone does this, everyone does eventually, not you too. I was worried when we were at home, but now I know. Please Dan, don't turn into everyone else. Everyone treats me like a child, like I don't really know what's going on. Everyone assumes I'm crazy, or not right in the head. Most people are obsessive, you know. They crave money and will go to any length to be around it. I told you Dan, I'd much rather be around tulips. 

“It's not that I don't understand the value of money, but I don't crave it. That's wrong, you know, or that's what the doctors would say. They hear that I crave my garden and then they decide that I'm not right in the head and they treat me like a little kid who doesn't understand the world. They baby me. You didn't used to. You treated me like anybody else. Don't pretend that they just want to make sure I'm alright. That's not true. They want to make sure I'm just like everybody else before they let me leave. They don't understand how someone could appreciate all kinds of life, beyond human life. 

“Of course I understand human life is different than my plants. I have even found humans I like being around like mum, and you. Or I used to like being around you. Please don't treat me like they do, Dan. I'm not crazy, I'm different. And I know that I'm different. Maybe being different means being crazy, I dunno, but if they want to lock me up for being different I hope they lock me in my greenhouse. The more I see of people, the more I realize how much I prefer my plants. I still prefer you to my plants, though. If I had to spend my days around people, I would choose you. I would choose you and mum. Mum doesn't treat me like I don't understand things, except sometimes. Please don't baby me Dan. I did mean it when I said that I love you. Please don't change. I'll see you tomorrow?”

Phil’s eyes sparkle, and for a moment he leans forward, almost as if he’s going to kiss Dan, but his eyes travel to land on his mum, and then he leans back with a soft pink blush.

“They say they believe that dad raped me,” Phil speaks a moment later, the phrase coming out amazingly bluntly. “They keep asking me questions as if they're trying to figure out how it affected me, how I can be treated and fixed. I did need help before, and I still do in some ways, but they want to do more than make me happy. They want to change me. They want to figure out why I am the way I am. I don't think they can accept that some people are born different. It's not something to be ashamed of, though, even if they try to make me think it is. I don't mind being different. Normalness leads to sadness, don't you know.” Phil’s blue eyes twinkle as a small smile worms its way onto his lips. The old man, who’s standing near the door, observes Phil with a silent, pondering gaze, as if he is indeed trying to puzzle Phil out. 

“You don’t need to be fixed,” Dan assures, but he doesn’t know quite what else to say.

Phil accused him of thinking he’s simple minded, like a child, and Dan can’t refute such a blatantly true claim. All summer, he’s gotten past the oddities, but tonight, Phil looks so small and fragile. His first instinct is to protect the boy with the flowers and do anything he can to appease the worry written in the crease of his brow, but it doesn’t work. He almost reaches out to hug Phil, but pulls back because it feels wrong. Everything suddenly feels wrong and he has no idea what to do about the lost, damaged look in Phil’s eyes.

“Thank you,” Phil murmurs, smiling slightly, his face calm and almost relaxed. With a smile, he slowly reaches forward and hugs Dan, his arms warm and comforting. It’s almost as if he can pretend that tonight didn't happen, yet Phil can feel the doctor’s eyes boring into his back. “Promise you'll come see me tomorrow?”

“Promise.”

Dan steps away after the hug for Catherine to talk to Phil, but he already misses having Phil in his arms. While Catherine talks to Phil and the orderly, Dan looks at his ratty converse, out of place on the pristine white tiles. He’s out of place everywhere he goes, really. This whole situation reminds him of how he always messes up or waits too long to act. This time, it’s resulted in Phil and Catherine getting hurt. As soon as Catherine is done, Dan follows her out the doors, still watching the floor and not even saying goodbye. 

“Dan, I have to speak to you,” Catherine murmurs the moment they leave the building. “You made very good friends with my son. I have even suspected that you've become more than friends. Whichever way it is, I must ask you something. Please, Dan, don't leave him now. Of course I cannot tell you what to do or how to live your life, but I know my son. He's scared, Dan, even if he's trying to brave. He knows he's in trouble in there. I know my son isn't crazy, but I've always worried that the day would come when someone would accuse him of it. Phil has been a strange boy ever since he was a child. I tried to change him at first, but like he said, there's not changing him. That doesn't make him a bad person, and he certainly isn't dangerous. He sees the world in a different way from everybody else. Please, he asked you not to treat him like a child, and now I am going to ask the same thing. I respect whatever you do next Dan. Thank you for… For doing the absolute best that a boy of your age in that situation could probably do. I don't blame you for anything that happened tonight, but please, I ask you not to hurt my son now, after everything that has happened.”

Slowly, Dan nods. He doesn’t want to abandon Phil- he’s terrified to. But at the same time, he isn’t sure he deserves Phil’s love, affection, and devotion. He’s been a freak, an enemy, a waste of space, but never something to be kissed and clung to the way Phil does. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Mrs. Lester.”

“Thank you, Dan. When Phil comes home he’ll thank you too.”

The days following Phil’s entrance to the ward are tense for both Dan and Phil. Phil is watched almost constantly, the doctors keeping a sharp eye on his every move. Dan visits several times, keeping Phil updated on the still flourishing garden behind Phil’s house. When Dan starts school, he brings Phil’s homework as Phil’s currently enrolled as independent study. It seems like Dan is walking on glass when he’s with Phil, which annoys the dark haired boy to no end. Still, Phil is ever patient, offering only smiles and gentle laughs while he hopes desperately for things to change.

It is exactly two weeks into the school year when Dan arrives to find Phil in the lobby, the most genuine smile on his face that Dan had seen in weeks. Catherine is stood beside Phil, and she's speaking softly to the doctor. Phil is gazing out the window, focused on the plants aw usual, but when he spots Dan his eyes widen, and he invites the boy over with a broad grin.

“Coming home?” Dan asks, smiling back and unable to contain his excitement. 

No matter how many times he’s gotten to see Phil, he’s still been missing him. He receives a silent nod, so he doesn’t hesitate to fling himself into Phil for a tight hug. Finally, maybe things can start to get back to normal.

Catherine drives them both home, and Phil immediately heads for the garden that Dan’s been carefully maintaining for weeks, even going so far as to plant some additional flowers to brighten up the space in Phil’s absence. Dan absentmindedly sweeps dust and dirt off of the stool he sat on the first time he came into the greenhouse, trying, and failing, to stop smiling like an idiot. 

“It's beautiful,” Phil speaks softly, gazing around the garden with the admiration someone who has been starving might show during having their first meal in months. Gazing around once more, Phil kneels to pull Dan into his arms. “Thank you. Dan. I've missed this garden almost as much as I've missed being able to see you without the doctors watching my every move. Thank you.”

Leaning back from the hug, Phil smiles at Dan. It seems like another lifetime when he first met the boy, and yet Dan looks almost exactly the same. His chocolate eyes still gaze at Phil with sometime close to love, and his curls fall lightly across his brow. Shaking his head as he thinks about how much has changed, though, Phil leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Dan’s cheek. “That's my thank you. When I first met you I knew you weren't like anyone else I'd ever met before. I was right. You aren't someone who everyone wants around, but I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my dandelion, Dan, thank you.”

“I love you so fucking much,” Dan blurts out suddenly.

Tears start to drip down his cheeks, carving damp paths down his face and occasionally splashing salt on his lips. He doesn’t think before wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck and pulling him in for their first real kiss in what feels like forever. Something burns in his stomach, something warm and good, and it spreads to every nerve ending in his body because he’s so absolutely gone for this beautiful boy.

Phil jumps slightly, surprised by the kiss, and he he reaches into it, grinning when they gently pull apart.

“I love you too,” Phil replies, his voice a soft rumble. “I know we aren't at the same place we were during the summer. Now you see who I am inside, and now we both see each other for what we are. But Dan, I wouldn't change a thing. I love you Dan, every bit of perfection, and every little curve of what someone else might call a flaw. It's not a flaw to me, it's just one more bit of what makes you someone I hope to love forever. I know I'm not nearly perfect, and I know I still have things to do before I've recovered completely, but I know that you do, too. They say that gardens and plants can heal you, but for the first time I don't think it's up to the plants. I think we can fix each other, Dan. I still love my plants, but you're the one who lights up my day. Here's to this good day, and here's to many more.”

Phil’s hands stroke through Dan’s curls and he kisses the boy again. It’s a tender kiss, and it’s promise. Phil doesn't mind if the world sees him as different. In the end, he’s glad to be someone who stands out amongst the drab expanses of what people call society. Still, he’s happy for people to join him as a splash of color mixed in the various blacks and whites of what people call normal. Dan is a splash of color, just like Phil, and Phil is sure that where two odd ones out stood, more would follow. And he’s also sure, finally, that neither he nor Dan will have to lonely ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Find us on tumblr! @somanydestiel, @emywright-funpics


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